


Idgits

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby is a ghost. Sam and Dean fuck everywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idgits

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a January 2012 blindfold_spn [prompt](http://blindfold-spn.livejournal.com/7359.html?thread=7384767#t7384767) (Bobby is a ghost. Sam and Dean fuck everywhere.) Somewhat AU because of Bobby.

At one point in time, Bobby would have been horrified by this. Now, all he could was just shake his head. "Damn idgits." Dying had a way of putting things in perspective for you.

Of course, watching two boys who he'd practically raised going at each other like minks is not something that Bobby thinks he should have ever had to put in perspective. Especially since those two boys were _related by blood_ and Bobby never should have known just how loud Dean can get when Sam puts him down on his belly. Bobby shudders and looks away.

To be fair, he didn't think the boys would be doing this if he was, oh say, still _alive_ because they probably weren't really expecting him to stick around. Hell, _Bobby_ hadn't been expecting to stick around. That didn't mean, though, that Sam and Dean had any right to be fucking in Bobby's house. That was _his_ damn couch that they were trying to stain up, thank you very much, and that had been _his_ kitchen table they'd been on earlier, and _his_ messy counter top.

Jesus, Bobby thought, he wondered just how much damn energy these boys had because it looked like they were damn determined to christen every damn room in the house. He glared at them as they wrestled on the couch, their pants already off--more of them than he's seen in a long while--wondering if he's corporeal enough to bang on a trash can.

He's tried to shoo them off before like they were alley cats (Christ, with some of the noises Dean made, they might as well be) and had come to the sad conclusion that not only could the boys not see him but he also couldn't touch anything. Bobby added a "yet" to both of those facts because, damn it, he wasn't spending the rest of eternity doing nothing.

That was, he wasn't spending the rest of eternity doing nothing but watch Sam and Dean fuck all over his house. If he was stuck this way and haunting their incestuous asses and they were going to insist on doing this crap then Bobby was going to find a way to let them know that they were going to follow some goddamned _rules_. Namely, no fucking where the ghost can easily see you--common areas off limits!

Bobby could have happily lived out his afterlife not knowing what Sam and Dean were doing with their free time. It was nine kinds of messed up--but Bobby didn't feel all that qualified to judge. He just wished that they weren't shoving it underneath his nose. Or that they were at least keeping it to just the damn guest room like they should have.

He sighed and went back to trying to levitate a coffee mug off the counter. The sooner he got that accomplished, the sooner he was going to start banging a trashcan. He only glanced up as he saw Sam shoving Dean towards the stairs, muttering about how--

"Damn it, Sam!" Bobby swore. "Not my damn bedroom!" Fucking _Christ_. And he'd thought that knowing the Winchesters had been bad enough when he'd been _living_. Well, Bobby supposed that he wasn't _using_ the bed anymore but it was the principal of the thing.

He needed to figure this trashcan thing out pronto. In a few more days, the entire place was going to be a black light disco and wasn't that just a pleasant thought. He took back the minks comment. Minks would have more _restraint_. "Idgits."


End file.
